Old Magic
by Erythea
Summary: Harry goes back in time to prevent casualties, and somehow ends up teaming with Snape to triumph over Voldemort and a seemingly endless war. Time travel AU. SSHP mentorship.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes**: All seven books up to chapter 35 in DH (when Harry meets Dumbledore at King's Cross) are canon in this story. Some dialogue and descriptions are taken directly from DH and OotP.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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**Chapter One: The Veil.**

Harry lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not completely sure that he was there himself.

A long time later, or perhaps no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too.

So maybe, because he had the ability to feel, he could see as well? He opened his eyes slowly, almost fearfully, and discovered with relief that he still had sight.

He lay in what appeared to be a bright mist, though it wasn't like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay was also white, neither warm nor cold, and as he sat up he realized that he was sitting on a raised stone dais in the center of a pit.

Harry looked around and found that the mist had suddenly vanished, and in its place were what appeared to be stone benches circling the room, similar to the courtrooms Harry remembered seeing in the Ministry of Magic. In fact, this place seemed to give off a strong air of déjà vu, like he'd been here before...

_Had_ he really been here before? The only times he remembered going somewhere courtroom-like was when he, Ron, and Hermione had infiltrated the Ministry a couple months ago, though it felt more like ages. But that didn't seem to fit quite right. The other time he knew he'd been in a courtroom was when he'd been tried for underage magic the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts.

Fifth year.

He suddenly whipped around and saw – almost expected to see – the ancient veiled archway through which Sirius had once disappeared. Heart swooping, he stood up and hesitantly approached it, feeling somewhat nauseous.

The black curtain fluttered and swayed innocently, like it always had. Harry thought he could hear faint whispering, murmuring noises he vaguely recalled hearing the first time he'd been in the Death Chamber.

Similar to the first time, as he watched the gently rippling veil with glazed eyes, he thought of how the archway had a kind of beauty about it, feeling a very strong inclination to walk through it.

And before he knew what he was doing, he somehow found himself standing mere feet away from the curtain, the whispering voices louder than ever. He took a step closer, and another step, getting closer and closer still. But as he slowly closed the gap between the arch and himself, a small voice in the back of his mind told him that he needed to stop. Now. He needed to stop, his life depended on it – but he couldn't. If he walked through the veil, then he'd see Sirius! This archway led to death, right? So he'd really die this time, big deal. Voldemort had already used the Killing Curse on him and he hadn't resisted. He could be a ghost for all he knew.

But whether he really was a ghost or not mattered very little, because he had one last footstep and then he'd meet Sirius again, and maybe even his parents and Lupin!

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to cross over in one go, but –

"Harry!"

It was like being broken from a strange, possessive trance: Harry spun around and stumbled, nearly falling through the veil.

"P-_professor…?_"

Albus Dumbledore was descending the stone benches surrounding the dais on which Harry stood, beckoning for him to step away from the arch.

Stunned, Harry watched as Dumbledore walked down and sat on one of the benches of the lowest row, patting the empty seat beside him.

Harry strode over reluctantly, bewilderment overwhelming him as he stare at Dumbledore's face, half expecting the old headmaster to disappear the moment he reached him.

Yet everything was the same as he remembered it. Dumbledore still had the same long silver hair and beard, same crooked nose, and same piercingly blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles. The only thing that was different was that both his hands, which now stayed folded in his lap, were whole and undamaged.

"But you're dead," Harry blurted out.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore matter-of-factly.

"Then …I'm dead too?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, smiling for the first time. "That is the question, isn't it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not."

They looked at each other.

"Not?" repeated Harry.

"Not," said Dumbledore.

"But then… where?" Harry raised his hand instinctively to touch his scar, but it didn't seem to be there. Neither were his glasses. "This place…"

"This place is indeed similar to that of the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries."

"Similar?" said Harry. "It's not the actual one?"

"I think not." said Dumbledore again.

Harry was confused.

"Then, sir," he said, his eyebrows knotted in a frown. "Why are we here? I should've died – I didn't defend myself! I meant to let Voldemort kill me!"

"And that," said Dumbledore, "will have made all the difference."

Harry still didn't understand. "Explain," he said.

And Dumbledore explained. He told Harry about how weak and foolish, he, Dumbledore, had been in search of the Hallows, how his determination to become master of death had blinded him, and that he was deeply apologetic for not trusting Harry enough. He explained how Voldemort's intake of Harry's blood tethered Harry to life, solidifying the "neither lives while the other survives" line of the prophecy – how Harry had been an accidental seventh Horcrux all along.

"So the part of his soul that was in me …has it gone?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes!" said Dumbledore. "Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry."

There was a long silence as Harry contemplated everything Dumbledore said, staring unseeingly at the archway and its fluttering curtain. He did still feel a bit angry at Dumbledore for keeping secrets, especially one as big as him being the seventh Horcrux, but it eventually tapered down to the fact that had Harry known this information before setting out to destroy the other Horcruxes, he might not have been able to do as he'd done.

As he pondered all this, gradual realization of what was to come settled over him.

"I've got to back, haven't I?" he said.

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?"

"Several, actually. You might exit this room, or walk through the black veil, or you may even walk through that white veil."

"White veil?"

"Yes, yes," said Dumbledore, smiling more broadly. "It is on the other side of the veil we face. See it for yourself, Harry, if you will."

Harry got up and walked around the dais, not wanting to get too close to the swaying curtain lest he slip into that strange trance again. Sure enough, as Dumbledore said, the backside of the black veil showed to be a pure, blinding white. It was so bright, in fact, that he couldn't look at it for more than a few seconds.

"But Professor," Harry called as he strolled back, "the veil in the Death Chamber was completely black!" He was certain that the arch's curtain had been black all around; he could never forget that moment when Sirius had fallen behind it.

"Indeed, it was," said Dumbledore. "But I should remind you that this is not the actual Death Chamber."

"Then what is this place, exactly?"

"Why the Death Chamber, of course," Dumbledore chuckled, holding up a hand at Harry's quizzical look. "A place of passage, should I say, between life and death. I assume it takes the form of what you wish your departure from the living to be."

"Right," said Harry, not entirely sure if he understood all that. "So what would happen if I left this room?"

"You would, I'm sure, return to your present."

"And if I walk through the black veil?"

"You would move On," said Dumbledore simply.

"And the white veil?"

"You would go backwards, perhaps."

"Backwards?" If leaving this room led to the present, and the black veil led to death, then could the white veil perhaps…? "You mean backwards …backward in time?"

"Certainly."

Harry blinked. And blinked again. He couldn't believe it.

Dumbledore smiled at the shocked expression on Harry's face. "It is not going back in time, intrinsically, or at least not as one would with a Time Turner. The corporeal form does not accompany the time travel, as I believe you are only the immaterial part of your person here. I am aware that this choice may sound the most engaging, Harry," Dumbledore added, sensing the eagerness that swept over Harry's shock. "However, I must advise utmost caution if you were to choose so, for it is the most indefinite and commutable of the three."

But Harry didn't seem to be listening. "Sir," he said excitedly, "if I were to go back and change things, then – then there might not be as many deaths as there have been in the war! I could stop them from happening!" Dumbledore wouldn't have to die – and neither would Sirius, Lupin, Dobby, Fred, Snape, and everyone else who had!

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, but didn't say anything.

Harry had a notion that Dumbledore didn't want him to do as he intended to do, but he decided not to mention anything, as the old man seemed too polite to bring it up himself.

At length, the two of them stood up after a somewhat strained silence and walked around to the white veil. Harry climbed onto the dais, shading his eyes from the bright whiteness. There weren't any strange sensations coming from it that he could feel, though he did feel a bit nervous and oddly blank at the same time.

He turned around. "Well …er, I guess this is good-bye, then, Professor," he said awkwardly, not sure how he felt about the abrupt end to their meeting.

"Alas, it is, dear boy," said Dumbledore sadly, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder. "Farewell, Harry. Best of luck to you."

Harry waved and determinedly strode over to the arch, looking back over his shoulder as he went.

As soon as his foot slipped past the white curtain, the entire place began to brighten into the same blinding color as the veil. And though he couldn't be too sure because of the intense glare, Harry thought he saw tears spill from sparkling blue eyes before the whiteness unceremoniously consumed him and everything went blank.

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	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

_Previously: Harry meets Dumbledore in a Death Chamber-like limbo and walks through the white veil, which is to supposedly take him to the past._

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**Chapter Two: The Death Chamber Again.**

Harry lay face down again, but there was no silence this time, and he was not perfectly alone. Instead, he could hear voices. Familiar, faraway voices that seemed to become louder and clearer as wakefulness returned to him.

But there was something wrong. Something not quite right. The voices, they sounded terrified and worried, higher than what he was used to …younger.

His eyes snapped open.

Five blurry faces hovered above him, all of which gasped when they saw that he was stirring. Three of the faces cried, "He's awake!" while another shouted, "Blimey, mate, I thought you were–!" and yet another said, "Oh, he might've been dazed by some Wrackspurts. He'll come around."

And Harry realized that they were the voices of Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Ron, and Luna.

He sat up, and everything began spinning so dizzyingly that he yelped and clasped his head in his hands. When the vertigo finally lapsed, he realized that they were all staring at him as though he were brittle glass about to explode at any moment.

"Where–" he started, but his voice cracked, so he coughed and tried again. "Where are we?"

"Harry!" said Hermione. She sounded very scared. "Harry, we're in the Department of Mysteries! We're here to save Sirius, r-remember?"

"I… wha–?" Harry looked from her blurry face to each of the others', and noticed that he was once again in the Death Chamber, but it was all hazy and indistinct. He wondered why that was until someone handed him his glasses.

Putting them on, his surroundings and friends' visages became clear, though he was still quite confused. It took several seconds of utter bewilderment before things settled in: Some time ago he had let Voldemort kill him – and then he'd met Dumbledore in the Death Chamber that wasn't the actual Death Chamber – and then he'd walked through the archway with the white curtain – which was to take him to the past – and so now…

"We've got to get out of here," he whispered, eyes widening.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you till you collapsed!" said Hermione worriedly. The others nodded in agreement, and Ron said, "Harry, you didn't – you know – get another one, did you?"

Another one? What was Ron talking about? If Harry had traveled back in time to the moment where they'd entered the Ministry to rescue Sirius, then they needed to get out here _now_, because Sirius wasn't here. And they were all in danger if they ran into the Death Eaters!

"What d'you mean 'another one'?" said Harry impatiently.

Ron looked at him with a scared expression, as though Harry had lost his marbles. "Another vision, mate, from – from You-Know-Who. You didn't see anything – did you?"

A vision.

During his fifth year, if he thought about it quick, he had been experiencing constant interference with Voldemort's mind, until the latter started blocking him with Occlumency (which had faltered often during the search for the Horcruxes). Harry himself had been made to take those disastrous Occlumency lessons with Snape.

Snape…

It made him feel odd thinking about that hook-nosed, greasy-haired man. Harry had finally learned about Snape's true alliance and love for his mother near the end, and the way Snape had died had been a horrible death. No matter how much Harry had disliked him and how unpleasant and cruel Snape had been in real life, no one deserved to die like that. Especially when it was at the hands of Voldemort.

And that was the whole reason Harry was here, in the past. Everyone who he knew that'd died had had their deaths linked to Voldemort in some way or another, whether it was directly or through one of Voldemort's followers.

But this time was different, Harry was sure of it. He would _make_ sure of it. This time he had a chance, an advantage. He knew that the dream he had once seen of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort was fake. And the first step to preventing countless innocent murder victims was by leaving this place.

"Look, guys," said Harry. What was it Ron had asked him? Oh, right. "We've need to go back to Hogwarts, because the – er – vision I had just now – it's – it showed me that Sirius isn't here. The earlier dream was fake."

They all looked shocked at his words.

"Are you sure you're all right, Harry?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"You said you were sure Sirius was here earlier," said Ron.

"Maybe he bumped his head really hard when he collapsed," Neville suggested fearfully.

"He did say he heard voices when we came in here," said Ginny.

"I can hear them, too." Luna reminded.

No one answered her.

Harry stood up and felt his head spin again, though not as badly as the last time. His knees shook slightly, but he ignored it. He didn't need them fussing over him right now!

"Look!" he snapped. "I'm fine, alright!"

Then he stared at them.

The reality of their current situation had driven most thought out of his mind, but he only just registered how the war had affected each of the people standing around him: Luna, she had been imprisoned at the Malfoy Manor for months on end – and Neville had been tortured for defying the Death Eaters at Hogwarts – Hermione had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange – Ron had witnessed Fred's death and hadn't been able to take proper revenge – and Ginny... Harry had barely had any time to enjoy the short relationship they once shared. Maybe he could make sure they had more this time around–?[1]

Harry shook his head. That would have to wait. Now wasn't the time to let his thoughts wander. Everything would have to wait, because there were other important things to deal with at the moment.

"In the …vision I had," he started, "I saw Voldemort–" (Nearly everyone flinched, but Harry didn't notice, he was too busy inventing wildly.) "– I saw him commanding Death Eaters – Malfoy, Crabbe, Lestrange, Macnair, and a couple others – to corner us in the Hall of Prophecy –"

"The Hall of Prophecy?" they echoed.

"It's the room I saw in my dream," Harry explained hurriedly. "It's filled with these blue glowing glass spheres – prophecies – and Voldemort wants them to retrieve one that's about me and him."

"But Harry," said Hermione slowly, "if what you saw really is real, and Sirius isn't here, then why did You-Know-Who show you a fake dream in the first place?"

"Well, because the only people who can take the prophecies are the subjects the prophecies are about! Er – Voldemort said so! And he wants me to get it for the Death Eaters because he can't just prance into the Ministry himself!"

"A-are you sure, though, Harry?" said Ron, now looking convinced that Harry was mad. "I mean, you even checked Grimmauld Place through Umbridge's fire and Sirius wasn't there!"

"Well, he _is_ there!" said Harry. "I just know, alright! So we have to leave now!"

Why couldn't they see how dangerous it was to be here? If they didn't leave now, the Order and Sirius would come and any one of them could die!

"C'mon!" said Harry insistently. He started to scramble up the stone benches, reaching instinctively into his pocket for his wand, which wasn't there. "Where's my wand?"

"Oh, here," said Ginny. "You dropped it."

"Thanks." Harry felt a spark of both sadness and relief as he claimed possession of his wand. The last time it had worked properly had been when he and Hermione had gone to Godric's Hollow and encountered Nagini, Voldemort's enormous snake, which also happened to be one of the Horcruxes Harry never destroyed. In fact, none of the Horcruxes were damaged anymore, no longer counting himself (Dumbledore had said something about it being destroyed in the forest). Harry was redoing a part of his fifth year now and had yet to get his hands on all of them.

Harry warily mused about how he was going to get Slytherin's locket from Umbridge or Hufflepuff's cup out of the Lestranges' Gringotts vault again, ignoring the way Hermione and Ron exchanged looks behind his back.

"All right," he said to them all when they reached the top of the room. "We came here by Thestrals, right?"

"Yeah," said Ron, staring at him incredulously. "We all rode them here, didn't we?"

"Er, yeah, but they might've left by now," said Harry. "So we'll have to get back to Hogwarts by Floo powder. There are fireplaces in the Atrium."

"Harry, you can't Floo into Hogwarts," said Hermione at once. "It's in _Hogwarts, A History_."

They couldn't…?

"Are you sure?" he asked her. "Sirius was able to do it during the Triwizard Tournament, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but Sirius only traveled by Floo with his head," Hermione pointed out. "When you're not inside Hogwarts itself, you can only Floo partially, unless you know the specific grate code or have an authorized connection from the Floo Regulation Panel."

"Fine, we'll just have to Floo somewhere into Hogsmeade," said Harry, and he moved forward to turn the handle of the door but was halted by Luna, who put her hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right, Harry," she said with a small, reassuring smile. "Wrackspurts always get us at some point or another, even when we least expect it. And if you say that Sirius or Stubby Boardman isn't here, then I believe you."

Everyone gave her a weird look, and Harry said, "Er, thanks, Luna," forgetting how Luna could be rather …Luna-ish at times. "I'll check if the coast's clear, then."

He cracked the door open a few inches and peered through, a hex at the ready in case any of the Death Eaters were on the other side.

But there weren't.

The circular room was clearly vacant, black and interspersed with the branches of blue-flamed candles like he remembered it.

Relieved, he pulled the door open wider, and they all trampled in. Hermione went to add another fiery 'X' on the front of the door like there was on one of the others, but Harry stopped her.

"There's no need."

"Why not?"

"You just have to ask this room what room you want to enter," said Harry, recalling how he had shouted for the exit when he'd been chasing after Bellatrix Lestrange after she'd killed Sirius.

"Why didn't you say so before?" said Hermione with a frown.

"I – er – I saw Voldemort tell the Death Eaters in my vision just now," said Harry quickly, relieved to see that she bought it. Shit, he really had to be careful about what he said from now on. Or they'd all think he was insane (Ron probably already did by the looks of it). It would be rather suspicious if he knew too much about certain things, and he couldn't always blame his slip-ups on Voldemort's interference with his mind…

Hermione shut the door to the Death Chamber, and Harry waited edgily till the room stopped rotating before asking, "Where's the exit – the way out?"

A door to his left immediately flew open and he could see the (thankfully empty) torch-lit corridor toward the lifts stretching ahead of him.

"Wow, Harry," said Neville with an air of amazement, as they all left the circular room and started making their way down the hall. "That room back there really _does_ answer you when you ask it! It's almost like the–"

But what the circular room behind them was almost like, they never found out, because Neville's voice had abruptly faltered. The reason for this was that, before they had even approached the end of the corridor, one of the lifts in front of them suddenly clanged down, and out of it came a group of black, hooded figures with wands pointed directly at their hearts.

"Leaving so soon?" spoke a drawling voice from the middle of the group.

Death Eaters.

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[1] Okay, I know that Harry momentarily thinks about starting a relationship with Ginny again, but that's all it'll ever be. Thoughts. I'm not a fan of the H/G pairing myself, so those of you who dislike it as well will only have to gag when Harry thinks of her. I promise.


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